Archive of ‘carpe diem’ category

The hands holding my heart.

It was a beautiful day here. The kind of day that makes the East Coast jealous 😉. Blue sky. A freshness in the air, a hint of spring at the corners of flower beds. Summer is a sweet far thing.

Looking forward while reflecting back.

As the sun sets, I’m sitting on Willows beach. I’m mildly freezing but it’s worth it to see the sky fade from brightest blue to faint pastels, a hint of pink and orange touching the edges of the clouds that cling close to the land. I’m grateful it’s such a beautiful day. It makes everything better.We spent the afternoon at the hospital. My dad sleeps almost all the time. He isn’t in pain. That’s exactly what he wanted. We asked he be taken off the medications they were giving him, to turn off his pacemaker, and let him be. No subject has ever been taboo, and I’m grateful to have been able to discuss birth, death and miracles in between with my family, and mum and I are deeply respectful of those  wishes.  I want him to be at peace, with just his breath and heartbeat, and feeling the love, us at his side until the end of this wild journey that we had the privilege of sharing.
I feel like there are tight hands around my heart. A tight fist of panic and grief. It feels as though I can scarcely breathe. I worry what it will mean when the hands release, with a final sigh of breathe. The sound and smell of the ocean calmed me. Steady waves gently rolling in to cover the bare beach. I can control them no more than my fathers breaths, but I can observe and cherish each. Footprints track through the rocky beach, but the birds seem few, and the last dogs and people turn in. A part of me wants to lean closer to the waves, to listen to what they whisper, for them to wash over me and wash away this feeling. But this feeling is a reflection of a life lived with love. It is a beautiful reminder of how deeply we as humans are able to feel.


I love the ocean.

I brought my dad a bouquet of flowers from the home garden. It’s a wild space, and beautiful for it. Lavender, Rosemary flowers, dandelions, heather, delicate weeds I have no name for. Dad loves to see my face light up when he gives me flowers, and it brought my heart solace to do the same for him, even if he sees them only in dreams, or catches a whif of Rosemary.

Thank you all so much for your beautiful words. It means the world to my mum and I. I’m so blessed to have been born to the parents I have, and feel such gratitude that they know my love, and see the joy they bring to my infinite moments. 💜

Reflections in a looking-glass pool

Underwater life animated on a historic building

I thought that the days of summer were truly over, but today the sky was an exhilarating riot of vivid blues, stormy grays and white. A mix of sun and clouds, with a touch of rain, and the occasional brilliant-eye-squinting ray of sunshine. Dad and I went down to the Inner Harbour, walking along one of the few paved paths in Victoria that is in a moderately tranquil location.

Regal Parliament, resting on borrowed lands

We walked along the smooth path, taking in the sights like any good tourist. It is noisy in the Inner Harbour, with the sea planes taking off towards the distant mountain, motor boats tootling around, people laughing and skateboarding, biking, dogs.

no school like zee old school

The one thing that you must listen hard to find, to separate it from the roars of city life, is the sound of the ocean, persistently lapping against the raised concrete path. I wonder what this place looked like before the shoreline was smoothed out and raised up. Were there beaches paved over, and did they use the smooth pebbles littering those ancient beaches to decorate the gray cement? A small piece of the bay is still intact, where you can see the remnants of crystal pools of green water, which carve holes in the rock-face. There are no big waves that rock into the Inner harbour any more. Not since the extension and creation of the breakwater, a few kilometers away. The water feels almost stagnant, until some boat or plane disturbs its’ surface. Just remember that this water is also full of raw sewage, one of Victoria’s very dirty secrets. Yes, that’s right, in the historic capital of this great province, our toilets flush right into the once pristine coastal waters. Pollutants don’t belong here. Not anywhere.

looking-glass pool
We strolled across the Blue Bridge, a first for me. I’ve never crossed from Esquimault to Victoria on foot or wheels. From there, Solstice Cafe, a haven of organic and homemade (many vegan!) delights, is just a few stoplights and a hill away. Steaming cups of rich cocoa, and a granola bar. Isn’t that the definition of culinary heaven? 
history unknown
I have always been fascinated by this building front on Pandora. Only the historic front remains, an eerie skeleton, a face with no body, a lid without a box. Ironically someone painted a few blue pacman on the front.  In the good old days of my freedom with strong legs and a healthy sense of adventure and liberty (always willingly accepting serendipitous situations as they arrive), I used to think to myself that the bodiless building would make an incredible picture, or a sweet backdrop for a photo-shoot. Finally, camera in hand and blue sky to boot, I captured the haunting beauty of the place on film a plastic memory card. 
I was so exhausted when we came home, although I am trying not to show it. We started my IV antibiotics a few days ago, after almost half a year without them. The medicine is caustic, and burns my heart and veins as it enters my blood stream. I feel weighed down with sickness, as though my bones are suddenly filled with lead instead of 900 mg Clindamycin.
When in sickness or pain, try chanelling your frusteration into a creative outlet. 
Don’t speak the anger in your mind and body, but instead try to look at the flipside, turn everything terrible into something good. 
An example? Today I am really suffering, and I feel like crying with the pain of the medicine going into my heart and neck. 
But someday, when I’m a doctor, and I decide to put a patient on a drug with a biting, bitter, derisive and acerbic personality, I will be able to understand their suffering. 
I am being given the power to heal, through the knowledge of suffering I am receiving. 
A further plus side is my extension tubing is 14 inches long, leaving me plenty of room to knit!
Once you start moving in a postive frame of mind, everything become lighter and warmer in my mind. I hope it can do the same for you.
I channeled my pain in sewing this afternoon. I have many incredible animal-print tees from the Sierra Club, that Dad used to bring home for me, some of which I have had since kindergarten. The sky blue and navy octopus shirt, which is too small for me and a bit faded, has just been recycled into a trendy skirt. Cut off the sleeves and neck, added a bit of denim on the sides from a pair of pants I cut off into shorts, and created a waist band from a faded black stretch shirt. I will post pictures when I have it fitted and on ma body! Should be pretty sweet once it’s done…and all recycled…how cool is that? 

Live It Loud.

I feel muddled. I’m not going to lie to you all and tell you that I am strong all the time. I usually like to pretend that I never cry and don’t show emotions, which was true, generally, for the ‘old’ me. This ‘me’, the ‘now me’ who has found her way out of me to the surface, is a strange creature who I barely know. Somewhere between seeing a quarter of the states, and a dozen doctors, 3 tries at antibiotics and a bunch more test results number, I found…well as cheesy as it will undoubtedly sound…me. And I don’t even know what the change has been. It’s probably sitting down, literally, and watching the world go by that has brought me around to my new way of thinking. Too often people really just go through motions. Motions after motions after motions, which they seem to feel adds up to life. 

News flash: It’s time to dig in and LIVE IT UP. Live it loud. 
I hate to reiterate this point but its true. And a thousand others have said it and a million will say it later. But a cliche is a cliche for a reason. Carpe Diem. Its that stuff all over again. 
If some crazy mystic or stranger or even close friend had told me in February that I will not be walking in a few months, and I’d be on an IV in half a year, I’d have first been like ‘you’re a crazy mystic’ and all and then would have thought how could I be? I’m fine now. 
There is a reason people don’t act like bad things are going to happen to them. If they realized how often bad stuff happens to good people and began to see the end of the world as they know it everywhere, I think most of the population would be insane. To know the truth would scare the shit out of us. This kind of truth has no use, right? If I’d had known that walking in the wood would give me Lyme, and if I’d known how bad Lyme was, would I walk in the woods? I hate to say this but I probably would. Because that’s human nature. It won’t happen to me. And how ironic that something always does. 
Okay I actually have NO idea where that came from. That was way out of left field. Someone with a shit arm like me musta been pitching. 
The point. The Crux. I haven’t even made a point yet. But like the point is not really the point. I mean this is more a broad theorem. So actually I was going on a bridge and suddenly I ended up nowhere. 
I just know I changed. And that I wanted to change, as in ‘get better’ but I found that you just can’t pick small sections to change most of the time…all or nothing at all. 
They had it right though, those people that tout cliches. You must live for today because tomorrow is not promised. 
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